


growing pains (as i start to age)

by raydiosighlent



Series: before i could age (the time before schlatt reached floor 6) [2]
Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, SMPLive, The Lunch Club Podcast, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Gen, its a fanfic of a fanfic, which is kinda trippy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:36:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23806447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raydiosighlent/pseuds/raydiosighlent
Summary: "one by one, each district’s vehicles left in a line; and there, in the very back, he stood proudly with both middle fingers raised high into the air, his pin glinting gold under the bright camera lights."-in which schlatt tries his best to make an impression
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Series: before i could age (the time before schlatt reached floor 6) [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1715155
Comments: 10
Kudos: 53
Collections: victors' tower (stories from floor 6)





	growing pains (as i start to age)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WreakingHavok](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WreakingHavok/gifts).

> a part two as an offering. read before i could age and as i get older for context on this (especially the latter because it is way better). this one’s a lot longer than the first one, but it’s just as mediocre. thank you so much for the shoutout, havok, and for using the pin and district 12 former homies in the canon version! i was drinking water while i was reading the new part and almost spit it out when i saw the ty scene holy fuck it was so sad. anyways, please try to get any enjoyment you can out of this one!

* * *

it would be a gross understatement to say that schlatt hated his stylist.

after a long, long train ride riddled with some of the most fake people he’s ever met, (to be fair, he was pretty fake too on that train ride, but it did nothing to ease his annoyance) he wasn’t exactly thrilled to interact with another pretentious capital citizen. so, when he looked at himself in the mirror after a bloody hour of his face and hair being pulled at, he was definitely pissed off. 

staring right back at him in the mirror, was a fucking ** _child._** a child with huge sad eyes and ruffled hair- whose figure was drowning in the impossibly oversized suit he was placed in (which defied all laws of physics by staying up on his body). in that insulting getup, he almost looked younger than ty. 

the fact that his incredibly braindead stylist believed that he would go out in that demeaning outfit made him fear for his sanity (he had to go through two more fucking weeks with these capital dumbasses? he almost considered just giving up now!) looking back over his shoulder to stare at the monster behind this creation, he only saw a wide, shit-eating grin staring right back. 

“i know you’re mad,” she remarked coyly. 

“mad is an extremely nice way to put it, broad,” he snapped back, crossing his arms over the mess of fabric in front of his chest. all she did was place a hand over her mouth and _ laugh _in response.

“all you district 12 boys always have the same response to my methods, and it's quite adorable to see you childish slums try to intimidate me,” she giggled out behind her hand. “but you see, i’m only dressing up walking corpses, i can do whatever the fuck i want with the lot of you!”

seeing red, he moved to throw a punch at her, but she caught the fist easily in between her manicured claws. slowly tightening her grip on his fist, she carelessly spit out another insult: “you’re a feisty one aren’t you, kid, but you should be groveling at my knees for the help i’m giving you! this is an age old strategy for you shitty district 12 peasants, so listen closely!”

  
she leaned in closer, taking jabbing a finger from her free hand at his chest, “the only way you can survive past the bloodbath is to look fragile and dumb! make them take pity on you! maybe then you’ll die a less painful death!” 

with that, she released his fist and leaned in close to his face with a face-splitting grin, reveling in his absolute fury. he flicked her forehead with his index finger and spit on her. 

in a haze of anger, she glared at him and started storming out of the room. “you are a fucking _ rat _,” he cackled out, laughing at her anguish towards him. “i’m going to survive this stupid-ass game, and i’m going to make you eat your bitch-ass words.”

-

with the help of every grace from god, he had left her work almost untouched when he boarded his chariot (he couldn’t help but pin the little coin onto his jacket, and he just had to let himself tear a rip into his sleeve). it’s not like he could do anything about it anymore, he didn’t have any other clothes to wear (peacekeepers took his actual clothes during his preparations) and the brunette was not about to go out there buttass naked. if he did, he was sure to be executed on the spot by the capital. 

standing there, in front of all of his fellow tributes, he felt like a rabbit- a small, tiny rabbit being hunted by hungry foxes. the girl next to him, who he could never remember the name of (he thought her name is yvonne, but it sounded too weird for him to be certain), looked down in fear from the predatory gazes- playing with her jet black hair. she too was dressed up to bring pity to the capital’s hearts; blatantly showing that she had no chance to the viewers. he was not going to be like her; he was not going to die.

raising up both of his hands to cup his mouth, he yelled. “hey! y’all motherfuckers! i know how fucking pitiful i look in this stupidass outfit! but once we get into the arena, i’ll beat all of you! even you, careers! so, let’s get this straight right fucking now, _ none _ of you dumbfuck careers have the guts to survive; you all have been spoonfed nothing but sugarcoated versions of the real world your entire pitiful lives! but i’m from district 12, where we know nothing but shit! i’m willing to bet, me vs. a career, i’d outlast them in the real world any time! you can’t attack someone if you don’t survive long enough to get the chance to! so watch me win, you fucking morons. i’m the big guy here.” 

he finished his rant with a cross of his arms and a predatory smirk painted across his face. he sure as hell didn’t believe any of the shit he was spewing, but he’d be damned before they realized that. that person who just screamed a waterfall of words was definitely not him, but he knew that he, jonathan, wouldn’t be able to survive the games.

looking to the front of the line of chariots, he spotted a career now fiddling nervously with his black outfit. maybe his speech had worked- he might’ve made one of the scary monsters suddenly question his ability to survive. 

one by one, each district’s vehicles left in a line; and there, in the very back, he stood proudly with both middle fingers raised high into the air, his pin glinting gold under the bright camera lights.

* * *

the next time he saw his stylist, it was right before his interview (which was a miracle considering that the mentor interviews happened without her styling him). they sat in silence, boiling in each other’s fury. it took all of schlatt’s power to try to (at least) act civil towards the bitch. she seemed to have taken none of his oath seriously, because when he looked at himself in the mirror again, he saw the same little kid- at least this time she had the kindness to put the pin on beforehand. however, this time he knew that no one would see him as something to be pitied (thanks to the little stunts he pulled at the parade [and the stunt he pulled during breakfast the next morning but no one needs to know about that]).

after giving the peacekeepers a name (that he literally just came up with on the spot, who the fuck remembers the naming part of the _ naming _ceremony) he stood in the back of a long line, again (just one of the perks of being from district 12), fidgeting anxiously with his hands. he had no clue how he was going to go up there and be the same person who flipped off the entirety of panem last night. breathing in and out, he decided to trust himself to get lost in the moment. he only had ten minutes to make an impression on the capital, and he was going to make it the best damn impression he could. 

-

when it was finally his turn, he slowly walked up the steps of the giant stage, quickly getting blinded by the hundreds of burning lights recording him (the fact that they were probably using enough electricity to power the entirety of district 12 for a year did nothing but start his anger). pyrocynical, in his neon, tv-screen helmet and disastrously purple suit, pointed his arm towards him, introducing him to the hungry capital crowd.

“ladies and gentleman! the feisty gremlin of district 12-” he paused his loud bellowing for a moment of anticipation.

“mr. j_ schlaught!_”

it was obvious that the mispronunciation of his last name was supposed to be humorous, so he still fired back at it. 

“god fucking dammit! it’s _schlatt _for god’s sake! schlatt!” he screamed back, trying to make his anger as amusing for the audience as possible, “but, what’s popping, man!”

it obviously worked, as pyrocynical just chuckled in response to his overreaction (schlatt could never understand how he could laugh after the atrocities he’s committed). the short brunette just swallowed down any last nerves and let himself banter with the host, sitting down in the (way too) plush chair next to him.

“so mr. jschlatt!” the host started with a bellow, “that’s a very, how do i put this, _intriguing_ name you’ve got there, mate.”

“yeah, well pyrocynical is a pretty weird name too but i don’t judge,” he retorted, earning a deafening amount of laughter in response. based on the crowd’s easy laughs, he didn’t know if he was actually funny to them or if they were just obligated to applaud. 

he chose to continue, trying to win some audience favor: “but, jschlatt is kind of just my first name and last name mashed together,” he paused, trying to think of how to continue his thoughts without getting beaten down by peacekeepers. 

waving his hands, he tried to come off as casual and sardonic (even if his getup would only contradict his actions). “y’see pyro, they call me ‘big guy’ (he added exaggerated air quotes) where i’m from, but i honestly forgot about it when i got here. i guess i was just too swept up in everything to remember the naming ceremony,” he shrugged, looking over to the bombastic man for a response.

the host just gave him a smirk in response, opening his mouth eagerly, “well, you aren’t exactly a ‘big guy’ here, jschlatt; i guess you could say over here, you’re ‘small guy!’”

said ‘small guy’ opened his mouth comically wide in response, quickly screeching back, “shut the fuck up! stupid tv-furry!” 

“my, my! honey! you don’t have to be so offensive! i’m hurt! really!” the tv-furry quipped back with fake hurt infused in his tone, obviously talking down to the shorter boy. somehow, schlatt didn’t find himself getting angry at the victor for mocking him. 

“don’t call me honey!” he yelled back (his throat was going to really hurt if he kept at the yelling), trying to keep this bit up. “you can’t cheat on james charles with me! i’m not some side bitch, y’know!”

he suddenly had another great idea and mumbled under his breath: “and y’know i’m straight so it wouldn’t work,” he said as meekly as he possibly could, earning a loud echoing of laughter vibrating in his ears. 

“well,” pyro started, “let’s move on from this topic before dear james cancels the both of us. so you’re from district 12, how’s this new capital life been treating you so far.”

suddenly realizing that this was all wrong, he could only feel anger bubbling in his stomach as response. so, he quipped back in an angry tone that (he hoped) the crowd would pick up as over-enthused, “pyro, buddy, i hate to break it to you. but honestly, not too well. the room has been mediocre, the bed has been ass, and don’t even get me started on your snacks!”

“what snacks in particular have struck a chord with you?” the host responded, leaning forward in his chair- feigning intrigue. 

“well, dude- the shapes. those fucking shapes man! they’re so awful! worst snacks i’ve ever had! i-i just can’t fathom how someone would choose to eat that disgusting garbage!” channeling his previous anger into his new tangent, he earned even more laughter from the crowd.

putting a hand to his chest, pyro faked even more offence, “mate! shapes are a national delicacy! you can’t knock them down this ba-”

“well i can, and they’re absolute horseshit,” the smaller brunette snapped, cutting him off.

looking off stage, the pair could see a manager motioning to get back on topic (with a pair of peacekeepers behind him), so the host tried to get them back on track, “on the topic of horseshit, that training score of yours definitely wasn’t!” 

“that’s a real nice fucking segue there,” schlatt snickered, putting a hand over his mouth to pretend to cover up fake chuckles. 

there was a beat of silence (probably due to pyro trying to figure out how to bite back), before the host quipped back, “i will bomb your minecraft house if you ever say that shit again-”

“pyro! let’s talk about my training score!” he cut off comedically, trying to pretend he knew whatever the hell a minecraft house was (and trying to push off the fact that it may just be capital way of saying his actual fucking house).

“ah, yes! your score! a remarkable 8! quite high, especially for district 12!” he complimented, infusing his accented words with a jovial tone.  
  


getting angry at the insult towards his district, he quickly tried to fire back at the host’s statement, “well, that just goes to show that 12 is a lot stronger than the lot of you thin-!” 

the boy had hit a touchy subject; so the host interrupted him, quickly trying to change the topic, “so, schlatt, you were quite funny during your reaping! i burst out laughing when you corrected mithzan- you’re just a little comedian aren’t you, mate!” 

“yes! yes i am! y’see pyro, back home, y’know what they also call me?” he leaned forward (swallowing his rage at how his previous statement was dropped entirely), pretending to expect the host to know the answer.

“what, schlatt?” the victor said, egging him on.

“they call me ‘gayslut,’” he started off meekly, fiddling with his fingers as noticeably as possible, “but they also call me ‘funny mic!”

“mate! you really got a mature sense of humor on your tiny body!” the host chuckled (this man really seemed to think the small boy was funny).

“dude, with the whole lot of you underestimating me, i think i’ll easily be able to win this game! they call me the ‘pvp god’ back home, so i’ve got this in the bag!” waving his arms around even more, he tried to make himself look cocky and boastful.

suddenly, the buzzer rang loud and clear through the interview hall, startling him. his time was up. all he could do was hope and pray he left a good taste in the viewer’s mouths. 

“well, mate! i guess your time is up! have any last words for the crowd?” the host drawled, passing the microphone over to schlatt.  
  


“no- not really no.”

however, when the music started playing to walk him out, all squeaky recorder and dumb jazz, he took that statement back and ran over to the microphone.

“actually, yeah! yeah, i fucking do! this song sucks cock and balls!” he screeched into the mic, making it peak and wail. the audience laughed even more (is that all the watchers knew how to do?), with thunderous applause echoing throughout the room as he left the stage. 

* * *

stepping behind the large velvet curtain, he exhaled a sigh of relief he didn’t know he was holding in. that was a lot more tiring than he thought (luckily he would not need to keep up that bit ever again), but the crowd seemed to love every joke that slipped out of his mouth. he only hoped the sponsors liked him as well.

(spoiler alert: they really didn’t.)

**Author's Note:**

> i’m not very good at dialogue, so i’m very sorry that i wasn’t able to get personalities right. also i put yvonne in because in ‘as i get older,’ michael’s in it; so i was like ok guess it's time for offlinetv. i've got a couple more ideas on what to write in this prequel kinda thing, but as of right now, i’m most likely gonna write something for the 7-eleven au that i’ve got in the works right now so look out for that if you want i guess. thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this piece of shit lol.


End file.
